


In The Event: After

by mansikka



Series: In the event [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Castiel (Supernatural), Angst, Caring Dean, Castiel in the Bunker, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 06:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5901802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas wakes up human. Dean is beyond kind, and caring, and Cas just can't understand it, can't tell when his mood will switch again - when Dean will tell him to leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Event: After

They found Cas in a dumpster.

Possibly to signal just how very expendable and disposable she found him, the witch had left him there, hanging half in and out, completely unconscious.

By angel, she had meant angel grace. The angel itself was irrelevant. The vessel, the life, it was of no consequence to her at all; she discarded him like the gutting of a fish.

Sam had been immobilised temporarily by Dean darting across his path towards the dumpster, hearing him yelling,  _ Cas  _ ,  _ Cas  _ , over and over, and only then did his eyes take in what Dean was already seeing.

Cas' legs dangled limply on the outside of the dumpster at a horrible angle, and his head and entire upper torso weren't visible at all.

“ _ Cas  _ ,” Dean was shouting, his voice broken and desperate as he reached up, trying to figure out a way to get Cas down.

Between the two of them, Sam and Dean managed to lift him down, but he was a dead weight in their arms, his trenchcoat filthy and torn and a gash to his pant leg that promised nothing good. Dean insisted on taking him straight to the Impala, and by sheer force they managed to get him laid out on the back seat. Once there, Sam stood back to give Dean room to check him over.

Dean pressed two fingers to Cas' neck to feel for his pulse, sighing out in audible relief when he felt a light beat there. He turned his neck, his ankles, and elbows, checking for breaks or any other damage. There was nothing major that he could really see through his clothes, although there was some grazing to his face as well as the cut to his leg. Dean cupped a hand to his cheek, staring for a moment, before looking up at Sam.

Cas was graceless, and possibly wounded, and very clearly only mortal. But he was alive.

*** ***

It's quiet. Too quiet. There is no noise in his head other than his own thoughts, and nothing external save for a soft rustling sound he thinks he's making himself, and some soft breathing to his side.

Cas cracks his eyes open slowly, wincing at the light from the lamp beside him, and waits for them to focus before glancing down at himself.

The rustling sound is the duvet that covers him, and he watches in a strange, detached kind of way as he wriggles his toes beneath it. He glances over to his right and jerks back a little, hissing as the movement seems to jar a wound he can feel on his leg, as well as flaring up a low, weighted bruised sensation across his entire chest.

Dean is asleep.

Sat awkwardly in a chair, slumping forward with his head practically resting on his chin, arms crossed as though unable to relax even when he is supposedly at rest.

Cas watches him for a moment, before turning his attention back to himself.

He catalogues; bruises, what feels like a cut, a general feeling of weariness, and that awful, hollow feeling of no noise whatsoever.

No angel radio.

Cas' heart starts hammering in fear.

His memory flickers; witch, light, pain, blackness,  _ alone  _ . His last thought, so very, very alone.

How did he end up here?

Cas looks up; from the lay of the room he's clearly in the bunker, though he doesn't recognise the room itself.

His heart won't calm, there are too many thoughts to have at once, too many sensations of skin against unfamiliar fabric, of wounds that remain instead of healing themselves, of the need to keep breathing in and out to keep himself going.

To keep himself  _ alive  _ , he realises, and sets himself off panicking all over again.

His panic grows, and he's taking big, gulping breaths, throwing back the covers, trying to sit up and stand up at the same time, groaning at the pain when he does. But it's enough to wake Dean, who at first is disoriented, and then all action, leaping up from his chair and resting his hand centrally on Cas' back, steadying him in place.

“Cas,” he says, and Cas thinks he hears relief there, although there's too much going on in his own head for him to be sure. He recognises how warm Dean's hand is on his skin, and how that feeling makes him want to feel, and be comforted, but that just sets off a cascade of memories about how often Dean pulls away from him when he least expects it. So he squirms away from his touch in anticipation of just that, as he's learned to do.

Dean notices, and pulls back slightly, but still hovers. “How're you doing, buddy?”

Cas looks up at him blankly.

“Cas?” Dean's voice is soft, gentle, and to Cas' wary ear it's so out of character that he doesn't know what to think.

Not out of character, he chastises himself, Dean isn't always harsh towards him. He isn't always avoiding being near him, or avoiding spending any amount of time alone with him. It's just become more noticeable when he does it. Because it happens more often than it doesn’t.

Dean's hand is back on Cas, this time moved to grip his shoulder lightly. “Cas, c'mon.”

“I'm...” Cas looks down at Dean's hand on his shoulder, down at his own chest, up to his hands which he's raised up in surprise in front of his own face. And his voice cracks. “ _ Human  _ .”

“Uh, yeah, Cas. Yeah you are now.” Dean watches him warily, unsure of what he's supposed to do.

Cas' eyes are beseeching.

“Hey,” Dean tries, pressing himself right up against Cas' side like he really is trying to give comfort, “So it's not ideal for you. I get that. But you're okay. You're alive. Got to be worth something, right?”

Cas can't seem to keep his voice steady, wincing at the tremble there when he croaks out, “I did not plan on this,”

Dean straightens, and instantly his expression becomes hard. And although Cas pulls away from it, he feels oddly comforted by something that's become so familiar to him of late.

“No. You were on a suicide mission. That's what you planned, right?”

Cas can say nothing. He continues his silent cataloguing of this body that feels so familiar yet so alien to him. Physical pain is very unpleasant, he decides, almost as much as emotional pain is.

“I planned nothing but keeping you safe, Dean. It is all I ever plan. And fail to do,” he adds with a sigh as though he's speaking to himself.

Dean's face softens immediately, and suddenly he's perching himself on the bed next to Cas, still with his hand on his shoulder, forcing Cas to keep eye contact.

“I know, Cas. You think I don't know that? I just...I wish you wouldn't just keep throwing yourself into the thick of it and not thinking about the consequences.”

Cas closes his eyes. What's the point of Dean's words now? Cas knows what he's done. He knows why he's done it – all of it. He'd even do it all over again if it meant it was good for Dean, but Dean's never been aware of just how much he really does sacrifice for him. Nor does he want him to, not really.

Cas would have settled for Dean's companionship in any form he chose to give, and he'd have been happy with that. Even if there was a want on his side for things that he knew would never be satisfied, he could have existed just being Dean's friend, or confidante, or something.

Instead of what he's become.

And now he's done the worst thing he could possibly do; he's made himself a true burden to him.

Cas wonders how long it'll take Dean to ask him to leave.

A furious pride washes over him in that moment; why should he stay where he is not needed, and absolutely not wanted? Why doesn't he just leave, right now?

Cas roughly pulls back the cover, and despite the pain in his chest, he swivels his feet, pressing them into the coldness of the floor. Then he's standing, or at least, trying to stand, because it seems his body is not up to speed with his mind's plan to make a quick getaway, and soon.

Cas feels his legs give way, braces for impact, but instead finds himself being steadied in Dean's arms.

“Where the hell do you think you're going?” Dean demands, pulling him up with a grunt and tucking him firmly back in under the blanket.

Cas feels light-headed; he can't make out a single thought now and the room feels like it is spinning. He can’t even raise his head off of the pillow, and he groans to himself, or perhaps out loud, that's he messed up, yet again.

“Just... allow me to recover. Then I will leave,” he mumbles, and he thinks Dean is crouched down so that his head is level with his, but he isn't sure.

“Leave?” Dean says, and Cas can't quite make out the tone in his voice before he passes out.

***

When he comes to, Cas finds himself in the exact same position as when he first woke. Only now, he's completely tucked in like he's in a blanket cocoon, and Dean's chair is even closer than it was before. Dean's also awake, and staring at him intently.

“Hey,” Dean begins, a smile competing with the frown that seems etched into his forehead.

Cas answers with a cough.

“You thirsty?” Dean asks, jumping up before he can get a word out and grabbing a glass from the side. He leans down to Cas, pressing a hand lightly to his arm to prevent him from trying to sit up. When Cas looks up at him questioningly, Dean tilts his chin, indicating for Cas to do the same.

Cas does as asked, and is more than a little surprised to feel Dean's hand gently cradling the back of his head to support him whilst he drinks.

“I am not an invalid, Dean,” he complains, once he is done. The last thing he needs, or wants, is for Dean to find him even more useless.

“I know,” Dean smiles, his hand twitching just inches from Cas' face. “You passed out pretty good though so, no chances. Alright? Stay still for a bit. Not like you're in any hurry to get anywhere now, right?”

Cas groans softly again. “I apologise, Dean. I did not foresee this.”

Dean looks as though he has so many retorts to that that he can't decide where to start. So he stops himself, visibly, and then, “You're here now. That's all that matters. And you're okay. You're getting better.”

“And then what,” Cas says heavily, more to himself than to Dean.

“Then,” Dean shrugs. “We'll figure it out.”

“I will not outstay my welcome, Dean,” Cas promises, although tiredly, and wondering if being human means being tired like this all the time.

Dean's entire face becomes entirely a frown of confusion. “Your welcome, Cas? Since when are you not welcome? Dude, for as long as you want it, this place is your home.”

Cas is too tired for this argument. He's barely been awake for five minutes and already he feels the pull of sleep again. It's easier to succumb to it than to try and make any sense of Dean's words, because he's pretty damn sure he hasn't been welcome anywhere near Dean for a long time.

So he sighs, closes his eyes once more, and goes right back to sleep.

***

This time when he wakes it's Sam sat beside him. He has one leg hooked up across his lap and is balancing a book there, oblivious to Cas' eyes on him. Cas has several minutes of watching him in silence before Sam notices; clearly Sam isn't quite so annoyed with his presence as Dean is, because Dean would have noticed him being awake immediately.

“Hey,” Sam smiles, closing his book and pushing it on to the table beside Cas. “How're you doing?”

“I am tired, Sam. But I believe I am recovering. Slowly,” he adds, allowing himself a small stretch and registering pain that feels like it’s all over him.

“Give it time.”

Cas wants to say something about how in fact now he has an awareness of time he never really appreciated before, but he decides against it. Instead, “How long have I been here?”

“Almost a week.”

“A week?” Cas' voice grows shrill with surprise, and he feels his heart taking off again. Not because he fears he's wasted his time, because really, what is there to waste when all you do is make mistakes? But more because he realises Sam, and Dean, must have been taking care of him for that entire period. He's never going to be able to repay them for his own stupid mistakes, is he?

“Uh, more or less, yeah. We found you, got you back here, and you were out cold 'til yesterday. I thought Dean was gonna work a groove in the floor with his pacing,” he smiles affectionately at Cas as though he's letting him in on a joke he knows nothing about.

Cas thinks about that. Had he woken yesterday? It only felt like today. Everything is just so jumbled up in his head. “I am sorry to have inconvenienced you both,” he says, his voice small, and contrite.

“It's no inconvenience, Cas. We're just glad you're finally awake is all.”

Cas has become so finely tuned to hearing criticism rather than affection that he can't really help looking for a hidden meaning. But he chooses to keep that thought to himself, and instead says, “You said 'found me'. Where did you find me?”

Sam's face grows uncomfortable. “Uh. Well,” he starts, leaning forward a little, “Actually... we found you in the dumpster outside the building where you...” and Sam vaguely waves his hand instead of finishing his sentence.

“Dumpster,” Cas says as though asking for confirmation, then gives a short, bitter laugh. That sounds very appropriate, he thinks, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah. Lucky you didn't stink out the car,” Sam jokes, but it's lost on Cas.

“What happened to her? The witch?” Cas asks, pinching the bridge of his nose like he's got the worst kind of headaches brewing.

“We don't know. I mean. We've kept an eye out for trouble but she just vanished. There's been no sign of her anywhere so she's probably brewing something up, but... I guess we'll just keep looking,” Sam shrugs; they're pretty used to facing several bad things at once, what's one more to add to the mix?

“I should leave.” Cas says all of a sudden, as though words alone will convince his body to follow through with his intention.

Sam narrows his eyes a little and his smile dies. “Yeah... Dean said you keep talking about leaving. What's up with that?”

Cas raises an eyebrow. “What would you have me do? I am of no use to you now. Either of you. I have no purpose here,” he says, as though stating the obvious.

“Uh, Cas? Not to rain on your pity party but you are  _ more  _ than of use to us. And you don't need to have a 'purpose' to be here. You're family, remember? That's purpose enough.”

Cas absolutely refuses to let his mind play back Dean saying that very same thing to him. It hurts too much.

“Once. Perhaps once Dean – you, considered me that. But no longer,”

Sam's eyebrows now raise. “Since when did you become not part of the family?”

Cas wants to speak, more than he's ever probably wanted to speak in all of his existence. He wants to tell Sam how honoured he was to be considered part of their family. He wants to say how deeply moved he was when Dean told him that he was. Then he wants to say that he doesn't know what happened, but Dean doesn't feel like that any more. That Dean pulls away from him, and speaks to him as though he is a constant source of difficulty, and that he can't tell exactly when it started, or how much he may or may not be imagining, or even if he deserved it. He wants to apologise for it, to take it back, whatever it was, and then he wants to say how he desperately wishes they could go back to how they used to be, but that he thinks it's impossible.

He wants to say how much he misses Dean. Not the constantly angry-with-him one, but the one who used to make him feel as though he belonged somewhere in this world.

Cas has never really had anyone to confide in, and he finds the words won't come easily now. Perhaps that is being human, or perhaps that is just being him, but either way, he stays silent. It doesn’t feel like he has any other option.

All he can offer Sam is a shrug.

Sam's look is calculating then. He turns his head to the doorway, pauses his gaze there briefly before slowly turning it back towards Cas and forcing him to look him in the eye.

“Cas,” Sam takes a breath. “Look. I know Dean's been... difficult. Of late. More so with you than with me,” Sam looks at him as though he's desperate for Cas to understand something he can't say out loud. “But it's just... he doesn't mean it, okay? He's not... he's just not good at this is all,”

Whatever  _ this  _ is, Cas doesn't find out, because Dean chooses that very moment to come back into the room, towelling his hair dry as though he's come straight from the shower.

Dean's eyes open wide and his face splits into a smile when he looks at Cas, and Cas feels strange under such a gaze.

“Hey, you're awake again,” Dean says warmly, slumping down on the side of the bed then wincing, and raising his hands in apology, hovering them over Cas' chest. “You okay?”

“I am well, Dean.”

“Good! We'll have you up and about in no time,” he says enthusiastically, still smiling.

“Not before he's ready, Dean,” Sam says out of the side of his mouth, like he's trying to tell him something for his ears only. Cas looks between the two of them but stays silent.

“No, no of course not,” Dean amends, face contorting to show worry. He pats Cas' leg idly, pulling back sharply when Cas hisses with pain.

“Shit, I keep forgetting,” Dean says, standing up.

Cas is now more aware of the burning ache in his leg, and fears that whatever it is, is beyond healing. “Is it bad?” he asks, looking down at himself.

“Pretty bad. But fixable,” Dean adds in a hurry when he takes in the look on Cas’ face. “Might be worth giving it a look. Changing the dressing?” Dean looks to Sam for confirmation and receives a nod.

“I'll go get some stuff,” Sam says, standing and stretching before leaving the room.

Dean reaches for the edge of the duvet but pauses, raising his eyes to look at Cas, seeking permission. “Can I?”

Cas swallows a lump in his throat; he's not sure why it's there or where it came from, only that it's now very, very present.

“We, uh. I mean, I. I thought maybe it'd be easier to just stick you in boxers to sleep. You know. While we kept an eye on your leg,” Dean says, now avoiding eye contact as he slowly pulls back the duvet.

Cas has a second to flush with embarrassment at the thought of how both Dean and Sam must have had to remove his clothing, and have probably bathed him, before he looks down at the large, square dressing on his thigh and raises his head to Dean in alarm.

“It's not that bad, honest, it...” But Dean's voice trails away. “We've had worse. We've got you on antibiotics and we're keeping it clean. I stitched it best I could,” Dean sucks his lip into his mouth at that, chewing down on it in worry.

Cas swallows again, and though it breaks him a little to show - and admit it after everything, he whispers, “I trust you, Dean.”

They both watch in silence as Dean snags the corner of the dressing and slowly peels it back.

When Dean smiles, Cas relaxes a little. It's pretty long, and angry-looking, but the wound is stitched well and doesn't seem too badly infected.

“First day after we'd cleaned you up, it got pretty gross here,” Dean says, gently touching the side of a part of the wound, frowning a little at the heat he feels there. “But it's getting there. Here, take these,”

Dean stands briefly, handing Cas a glass of water and pressing two pills from a package into his other hand, waiting for him to take them.

Sam returns, and hands all sorts of supplies over to Dean that Cas is kind of curious about but hesitant to ask what they are needed for. Instead he watches Dean. Dean very gently turns Cas' leg so he has full access to the cut there, and begins cleaning it up with a series of careful dabs. Cas flinches as the antiseptic stings, and Dean offers soothing murmurs as he continues.

Dean waits a few moments for the wound to dry, then bends closer to take a look. Satisfied, he straightens back up, applies a liberal amount of cream, and starts opening a pack of dressing.

“Not bad at all,” he says, before gently adding the dressing to Cas' leg.

Dean looks over at Sam and smiles; Cas knows there's something unspoken there but he's long given up trying to decipher their silent conversations.

“You up to some food you think?” Dean asks, and Cas is reminded what hunger is; his stomach announces that he is, indeed, hungry.

Dean smirks at the growl it makes, “Back in a minute,”

Sam cleans up after Dean, nonchalantly covering Cas back up without any sign of embarrassment,  and flops down into the chair again. “You need to keep taking these for a few more days,” he says, holding up the packet of pills that are on the table. “Back to normal in no time,”

“I am not sure what 'normal' is for me anymore.”

“No,” Sam agrees, “I guess we'll have to find your new normal then, huh?”

Why does Sam have to make it sound so easy?

Dean returns a few minutes later with a tray laden with soup that he's made himself. He helps Cas sit up, refusing to let him out of the bed until it is absolutely necessary.

When it becomes apparent that Cas is still a little too shaky to hold a spoon by himself, Dean sits on the side of the bed, his back to Sam, and slowly raises the spoon up to his mouth, until all the soup is gone. Cas should feel mortified, he thinks, but between Dean and Sam's easy conversation and Dean's careful ministrations, it is easy to forget something very much out of the ordinary for him is happening and is completely out of his control.

***

He fell asleep almost instantly after eating, and now he's awake yet again, Cas realises he's going to have to persuade Dean to let him up out of the bed after all.

“Dean,” he begins, his face flushing, “I need to get up.”

“No you don't. Rest, Cas. You'll get better quicker if you just rest,” Dean is firm, and adamant.

“Dean. I must...I must...” and he waves a hand in the general direction of his lap.

“Oh,” Dean's voice shows his understanding, and he stands, folding his arms, thinking. “Okay. Well, you're gonna have to lean on me a bit, alright? I know it's undignified and all that, but right now you don't have much choice.”

Cas is so embarrassed that he feels another, worse feeling; he's close to tears with how useless he feels at that moment.

Dean must see that, he must, and Cas braces for his anger. Instead, Dean leans down, gently cupping the side of his face and raising it a little.

“Hey. It's okay, Cas. You're gonna be okay.”

Dean's stare is like the old Dean stare, and Cas can't help melting into it, battling to stop himself pressing his face into his touch. So he nods, lets Dean pull back the duvet, and shakily moves so that he can stand. Dean bends and loops one of Cas' arms around his neck, pulling him up, his other arm tightly securing Cas around the waist.

When Dean is sure Cas isn't about to fall, he moves, very small steps that for him must be annoyingly small, but for Cas they are currently of mountainous proportions.

There is no awkwardness from Dean as he half drags, half carries Cas all the way to the bathroom. None at all when it's clear Cas can't stand alone and so needs Dean to stay right there with him whilst he pees. Not even any when Cas fumbles with his boxers and his shaking hands can't seem to get any purchase on the material to pull them up; Dean just drops a hand, pulls the band of them back far enough for Cas to be able to rearrange himself, all the while keeping up a steady stream of empty conversation to keep Cas distracted.

When Cas gets back into bed, he is exhausted.

He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to get his breathing back under control. When he opens them, he's somewhat surprised to find Dean still there. But there he is, shuffling his chair forward, slipping off his shoes, settling down as though he's preparing to be there for some time.

“Aren't you going to bed, Dean?” Cas finds himself asking.

“Nope. Staying right here, Cas. Just in case you need anything.”

“But...why?” Cas looks at Dean now; from the dark circles under his eyes he's probably been sleeping here a while, he thinks. All week? He asks himself, wondering at the conflict that raises in his chest.

Dean's look is incredulous, as though Cas is a fool for even asking. But it transforms into a smile, and he says gently, “Maybe it's my turn to watch over you for a change, huh?” and then he's reaching out a hand, squeezing Cas' arm as though to reassure him.

All Cas can do is nod, stare a little, then close his eyes as sleep comes to claim him once more.

***

To say that Cas is surprised by Dean's behaviour is beyond understatement.

Cas is pretty much bed ridden for another two days, and Dean never leaves his side. He helps him to the bathroom, brings him food, keeps changing his dressing. He talks more  _ to  _ him than  _ with  _ him, since Cas is still so bewildered by Dean's abrupt change of attitude towards him that he can't form much in the way of coherent answers.

Dean keeps the conversation light, never swaying towards serious subjects, just doing his best to keep the talk flowing and about things that Cas might or might not find interesting. There is none of the anger or the awkwardness there that Cas clearly remembers, and he's frustrated at how easily his mind wants to forget all of that and instead bask in this version of Dean before him.

It's too much. With everything else going on for him, with so many new things to get used to, this new version of Dean is just too much, on top of it all.

Eventually, he snaps.

"What are you doing, Dean?"

Dean had been mid explanation of why he liked putting cars back together, working up a good theory as to why it made sense to try and fix something that you just knew would ultimately end up being fixed and okay anyway, whatever mistakes you made along the way, when Cas interrupted him.

"Huh?"

"What are you doing?"

Dean’s eyebrows raise. "Uh...explaining why I like fixing cars?"

"I did not mean the subject, Dean. I meant, why are you taking care of me?"

Dean's face starts out surprise, but it soon morphs into pained. "C'mon, Cas."

"Do not think I do not appreciate your...attention, Dean. Because I do. Very much. I have no way to repay you. But it is very unexpected."

"Cas..." Dean pleads, and Cas huffs.

"Dean.” Cas looks down, fumbles with his hands in his lap. “There has been much... difficulty... between us of late. You cannot tell me that you are comfortable caring for someone that you clearly do not wish to have in your life." Cas looks at him patiently, expecting Dean to understand.

But he doesn't, not at all. His mouth opens and closes stupidly, his fists clench, and he falls back in his chair as though he has been struck.

"Give me a break," is all he can manage, and weakly at that.

"No, Dean. No break. In fact," and Cas begins to stand; he's just about strong enough now, and he can hide the way his knees are still occasionally knocking if he tries hard enough, "I should go,"

"Go," Dean bites out, hands slapping against his thighs, "Enough with the going, Cas. Where're you gonna go?"

"I will find somewhere," Cas hopes the tremble isn't evident in his voice when he answers, turning his back to Dean just in case.

"Just wait," and Dean is on him, hand tight around his bicep, stopping him from taking even another step. "I don't want you to go anywhere, Cas."

There's enough hurt in Dean's voice for it to get through to Cas, and he stops struggling against Dean's grip, but doesn't turn around.

Hanging his head, Cas can do nothing but address the floor. "You do not want me here, Dean."

"Yeah, Cas. I  _ do  _ ," and Dean holds on to his arm but walks around to face him, holding on tight to both arms now.

"You do not. You have asked me to leave, many times." Cas feels Dean flinch, but it does nothing to stop him. Why should it, after all this time? "For the past few months, Dean. You have been angry with me. You are always angry with me. And I am always wrong. Wrong for helping, wrong for visiting you, wrong for standing too close to you.” He purposely keeps his eyes elsewhere when he says, “I cannot help it if I am drawn to you, Dean. But it is not my intention to make you uncomfortable."

Cas takes a breath, trying to control the pounding of his heart and the constant fluttering sensation there in his chest. "I do not need further confirmation from you to prove how much I have failed you, and failed everything. I am already aware of what an abomination I am," Cas spits out his words, and they are full of self-loathing that makes Dean flinch.

"And I apologise for every mistake I have ever made. But I cannot take them back. And I cannot stay here knowing how uncomfortable I make you."

"You don't make me uncomfortable, Cas," Dean tries, but Cas just snorts in reply.

"Okay," Dean concedes, squeezing Cas' arms lightly, "Maybe you do. But it's not in the way you think," he rushes out in a single breath when he feels Cas pull away.

"The only thing I think, Dean, is that it is time for me to leave."

"Oh yeah? Where are you gonna go, huh? You're human now, Cas. Human. You bleed, just like us. You're vulnerable, just like we are. So what are you gonna do? Walk out and what, find a job? Start living an apple pie life with someone else? What?"

Dean's shaking him now, trying to get him to see sense. But all Cas sees is rejection. And all Cas hears is  _ useless  _ .

And it's too much.

Maybe Dean's right. Maybe there is literally nowhere for him to go. And nothing for him to do.

And Cas is broken once more.

He needs time to think. And he needs time, alone.

Wrenching himself out of Dean's grip, he runs, stumbling as he does but remaining upright enough to keep going. Dean is right behind him, but Cas finds he is the quicker of the two. He sprints, through the bunker, past a surprised Sam, rounding the corner and straight into the bathroom where he firmly locks the door, leans against it, and falls to the floor.

It is the first time Cas has ever cried.

***

"Cas,"

Dean is on the floor with his back pressed against the door, unknowingly mirroring Cas' position on the other side.

He's been calling to Cas for ten minutes now, starting out on his knees and helplessly trying the handle, but slipping down to sit when his knees gave out.

Cas isn't responding, but Dean thinks he can hear him shifting on the other side of the door; Cas must find the floor as cold and uncomfortable as he does, Dean thinks.

"Cas," he tries again, "Can't lock yourself in there forever, man."

He looks up at Sam who looks on back, equally helpless.

"I need time to think, Dean."

Finally, a response, and Dean breathes deep. "So think, Cas. But not here, okay? It's cold. You could get even more sick. Just...go back to bed for me, okay? We'll talk,"

"I need to think alone, Dean."

Dean swallows back the pain he feels at that but nods, not that Cas can see him do it.

"Alright. I'll... I'll leave you alone 'til you're ready. How's that?" Dean finds in that moment that the thought of leaving Cas alone is all kinds of terrifying.

There is no movement for some time, and then Sam and Dean hear a shuffling noise, and a groan, that signal Cas hauling himself to his feet.

"You haven't left."

Cas' voice is cold, and it pours ice down Dean’s neck.

Dean stands, pulling himself up by the door handle. "Alright. I'm going, okay?"

Cas waits to hear the pacing away of Deans boots before taking a deep breath and unlocking the door.

Sam is waiting in the other side. Of course. But without a word, he nods, turning to walk beside Cas back to his room.

Sam pauses in the doorway, carefully schooling his expression of concern when Cas falls down heavily on the bed. He waits a beat. "You know where we are if you need anything, okay?" He doesn't wait for the reply that he knows isn't coming.

***

Thinking, Cas finds, does nothing to help. His thoughts aren't focused, unless by focused he means constantly drifting back to Dean when he tries to think of literally anything else.

It's always Dean.

For every memory that forces its way to the front of his mind about every hurtful thing Dean has done, comes another, conflicting one of Dean doing something for him that makes him  _ feel  _ . Feel warm, comforted, confused, an ache that never seems to go away.

No one person should be able to make him feel so much, or so many conflicting things, he thinks. It is impossible, this swirling of emotions that seem somehow even sharper and more vivid now that he is human.

That in itself, that he is now human, should be occupying a lot more of his thoughts than it is. But somehow, it doesn't seem to be concerning him half as much as he thinks it probably should.

He feels weak. He feels helpless. He feels...everything. And none of it easy to understand.

***

Dean is doing no better, but he knows he has no one to blame but himself.

Instead of talking to Cas, he's spent the best part of the past year snapping at him and pushing him away. Instead of admitting to himself that there's a whole world of things he thinks and feels about Cas that are both exciting and terrifying, he's acted as though Cas has wronged him somehow.

Is it any wonder Cas is so confused by his actions, when he's so confused about them himself?

The thought of losing Cas has taunted him for years, almost as much as his growing attraction for him. If he's particularly harsh, it's because he's finding it harder than normal to stop himself from blurting out what he's thinking. If he's visibly disturbed by Cas' nearness, it's because he doesn't trust himself not to reach out.

He knows that's a shitty justification for his behaviour and nowhere near what Cas deserves, but it is an honest one, and it's currently all he's got.

It's just a question of trying to get Cas to understand. Or at least listen. Dean knows he can't force understanding on him, as much as he wishes he could.

***

Dean's never been patient. He knows he told Cas he'd wait until he was ready. But it's already been a day, and he's driving himself crazy. He's snuck up outside Cas' room a few times, listening to make sure he's still there. He's poked his head around the corner to check he's been sleeping, his heart pulling at the sight of Cas finally managing to turn on to his side and curl up; Cas hadn't enjoyed sleeping on his back at all.

Dean had actually crept up in the middle of the night and sat down against the wall outside Cas' room, just to be near him. He finds he's unable to stay away, whatever promises he's made.

When Sam is preparing a tray of food for Cas, Dean silently walks up and slides it off the counter, cutting off Sam's protest with a look. With the perfect excuse right there in his hands, Dean tells himself that he has reason to enter Cas' room. But when he does, Cas' eyes are watchful, and he says nothing as Dean leaves the tray of food on the chair next to him.

Dean stands awkwardly for a few minutes, waiting. Waiting to be told to leave, waiting for Cas to speak to him, he's not entirely sure. But when it's clear Cas won't even look at him, Dean's shoulders sink, and he turns and leaves the room.

Maybe Cas really does just need a little more time.

***

A glance at the clock tells Dean it's 2am, and there's only so much ceiling watching he can do. He's been fighting with himself since going to bed about checking in on Cas, about sleeping outside his room again, and presenting and arguing his case against himself so much he's in a complete muddle.

But the side of him that can't stay away screams loudest, and with a heavy groan, Dean is rolling over and getting up out of bed. He grabs a blanket, and pads down as quietly as he can to outside Cas' room.

When it doesn't sound like Cas is sleeping, Dean feels stranded. He's standing, perfectly still, trying to decide what to do, when he hears,

“If you're going to stand out there again you may as well come in,”

Dean feels his heart begin to pound, and slowly peers around the edge of the door.

The room is in complete darkness as is to be expected, but Dean thinks he can make out the shape of Cas sitting up in the bed. He's proved right when Cas reaches out an arm to fumble the lamp on.

Cas stares at him expectantly.

Dean swallows hard, once, walks forward, and sits down on the chair next to Cas.

They stare at each other, in complete silence, as though daring the other to begin.

Cas wins.

Dean clears his throat, barely glancing away for a second as he says in a shaky voice, “Guess you and me have got some talking to do,”

  
  
  



End file.
